


the bond [Zarry]

by kaleidoscopecait



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 15:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidoscopecait/pseuds/kaleidoscopecait





	the bond [Zarry]

The Orphanage (Zayn age 3)

"You don't want that one," she hums, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"That one? He's a boy. He's human, he's beautiful-"

"Harry," my mum scolds. "Let her finish her thought."

"He doesn't interact well with others, he's very quiet and-"

"He deserves a home like every other child what the he-what is wrong with you? He should stay in a bloody orphanage forever because he's...because he's shy?"

I'm seething with anger, fists furled, heart clenching up, jaw set tight and I want to knock the stupid out of her frail body but instead I crouch down in front of the young boy, wide grin on my face.

"Hi. I'm Harry. What's your name?"

His gaze is fixed on the cold tile floor and my heart shatters for him.

"It's okay," I add softly. "I won't hurt you. I like your hair."

My fingers ruffle his soft black hair and he giggles, peeking up at me from under long, tangled lashes. It's just enough to make my breath hitch.

"Zayn," he whispers.

"Zayn," I repeat quietly. "That's your name love?"

He nods timidly and I poke his cheek. "What's my name? Do you remember?"

"Hawwy," he gives me a lopsided smile and I chuckle.

"Very good Zayn. You're so smart."

"Dumb," he frowns, blinking back tears.

"No, you aren't dumb. Who said that?"

He points toward the thin blonde, her heels clacking obnoxiously loud as she shows my mum some of the other children.

"She's a meanie," I pout and he laughs again, bright and bubbly, tiny tan finger latching around mine.

He covers his face with his hands, seemingly embarrassed and I want to move then away to get another look at him but I play along.

"Where did Zayn go?"

His shoulders shake, his laughter muffled.

"This is really hard, I can't find him anywhere. I reallyyy miss him."

"M'here Hawwy," he smiles at me, hands falling to his sides and I scoop him up, tickling his sides. 

"There he is!"

He squeals excitedly and I blow air onto the crook of his neck.

My mother glances at me and I gently set him down. When her and the lady approach, he wraps his arms around my leg, quivering as he hides behind me.

"Shh," I coax. "It's alright Zee."

"I see you've found him," the lady says bitterly. "Zayn dear, go back to your bed."

"No, no. It's alright. He isn't a bother. I think he's adorable. Can we get him mum? Please," I beg. "I've always wanted a little brother. I can teach him to play soccer and read him comic books and...I won't be lonely. He needs a family. He deserves a good family. We can provide that for him."

"He's extremely malnutritioned," the woman picks at her nails. "Came in here skin and bones and I can never get him to eat."

"Are you hungry Zayn?"

I hoist him up onto my shoulders and he nudges his nose against the nape of my neck.

"You can talk to me. We're friends."

"See what I mean," she snaps. "He's completely despondent."

"Hunwy Hawwy," he whines.

"Do you have anything I can feed him?"

"There's applesauce in the fridge," she sighs. "Be my guest."

I place him back down and scoop a spoonful.

"Zayn. Do you like apples?"

He just blinks at me, face blank and I attempt to feed it to him but he refuses to open his mouth so it gets smeared on his little nose.

"What a mess. What a pity."

I glare at her and dab it off with a napkin.

"It tastes good Zee. I promise."

I'm trying that silly thing they teach you in school, making airplane noises, "flying" the spoon towards him but he still doesn't budge.

I lick some off the tip of the spoon and he suddenly nabs it from me with his chubby hand, it's plastic so it isn't too heavy. His grip is still quite loose, it's hard for him to control.

"See? It tasted yummy Zayn."

With that he cleans the spoon and I dip it back in, feeding him the whole little jar.

She gives a brittle smile and my mum speaks up. "They get along quite nicely. He seems fine to me. We most definitely want to adopt him."

The lady mutters something under her breath but I don't miss it.

At least I won't have to deal with him anymore.

Storytime (Zayn age 5)

My fingers card through his messy hair. He lets out a little yawn, fighting to keep his eyelids open.

"That's all for tonight," I snap the book closed. "We can finish it tomorrow, okay?"

I tuck him in and switch on his nightlight as the darkness envelopes us.

"Night Zee," I kiss the top of his head.

"G'night Harry."

"Harry," my mum's eyes are trained on the telly but she still addresses me, patting a spot on the couch beside her.

"He's so much healthier now."

"I know sweetie," she smiles. "You're a great brother just remember what I said about him staying in his own bed."

"Mum," I groan. "I know. He's been so good about it. Poor thing is tuckered out, it'll be fine."

"He's old enough now, he shouldn't wet the bed or have nightmares about monsters in the closet."

"He's afraid of thunder," I mutter to myself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I shake my head, listening to the steady patter of the rain on the roof. "Goodnight mum, love you."

I peck her cheek and she hugs me, sending me off to bed.

For the longest time I lie awake, a million thoughts roaming my mind.

I can't believe I missed that quiz question in history class. Stupid.

What's the deal with pop quizzes anyway?

There's a clap of thunder, an ear splitting sound that rattles the windows. It starts pouring, a flash of lightning bolting outside my curtains.

It takes two minutes for his outline to appear at the doorframe.

"It's fine Zayn," I say agitated. "Go back to bed."

He's motionless and I want to cave but my mother is right. He needs to start growing up.

"Dad left during a storm."

I sit up, heart thudding in my chest.

"What?"

"He left me outside in the rain."

What father leaves their son in the cold pouring rain?

I'm squeezing my eyes shut, trying not to picture rain drenching his tiny baby jumper, him soaked all the way to the bone, shivering.

"On the doorstep," he shuffles his feet, head bowed. "I got sick."

"Hypothermia?"

He nods and I motion for him to come in, fluffing the pillow beside me. There's plenty of space between us.

I'm not sure I like it. And the silence is far from comfortable.

There's another crack of thunder and he curls up, body trembling.

"C'mere," I murmur.

He looks at me, eyes wet with tears and scoots closer, warm body nuzzled up beside me.

I pull him into my arms, feeling his heartbeat as he presses against my chest.

"I won't ever leave you Zayn."

Best Brother Ever (Zayn age 8)

"I never knew her," he whispers, picking at a string on the comforter.

My mum would kill me if she knew Zayn was in my room.

It isn't even raining, that's the other thing. I've grown used to him cuddled up beside me and his soft snores. The sheets feel cold and my heart feels empty without him next to me.

Maybe it isn't normal to feel that way about your younger brother but no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the feeling.

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. I love your mum...my mum I guess," he grins at me. "She doesn't treat me any differently than she treats you."

"As she shouldn't," I chuckle lightly.

"Why'd you choose me over the other kids Harry?"

He's looking at me expectantly with those soft honey colored eyes.

"Just liked you better," I shrug. "We had a connection from the very beginning."

I love Zayn with my whole heart. I've never uttered those words to his face but I want to.

I love you.

Although I think it all the time, I feel it all the time, my heart aches for him and I nearly let it slip.

It wouldn't be bad, telling my brother I love him. Siblings should love each other. Somehow I can't help but feel he would be awkward about it and I can't afford to lose him.

But that's what I'm thinking in my head, that's my honest response.

I love you Zayn.

"I'm glad," he sighs heavily. "You're a really awesome brother. Remember when I scraped up my knee because I couldn't balance the bike without training wheels? And that time I broke the lamp downstairs and you took the blame?"

"Yeah," I laugh. "She grounded me for a week."

"Sorry," he mumbles. "You didn't have to-"

"It's alright. Looking back at it now, it was worth it. Besides, you didn't rat me out when I pretended to be sick that one time. You told her I was yucky and hid a bunch of pillows under my sheets."

"She should have actually checked," he chuckles. "That's her fault for trusting us...and your first tattoo. Man. I thought she was going to kill you."

"Until you told her it was a coloring book on my skin...suddenly that changed her outlook."

"Not such a bad description, huh?"

"No, not really. You got really sick trying to chug more cola than me."

"Stop," he snorts, swatting at my shoulder.

"Best brother ever?

"The best."

Drown Your Feelings (Zayn age 11)

"Are you coming home H?"

"Y-yeah, cover for me."

"You're drunk off your ass. Third time this week. What's up with you?"

"Shh, no cursing," I giggle. "That's sooo bad."

"You're bad."

It takes everything I have to stop a moan from escaping my lips.

"Leave the patio door unlocked please and thank you."

I'm shaking terribly as I go around back. I manage to sneak in and tug off my boots. I quietly creep up the stairs, knocking straight into a very angry Zayn.

He huffs, arms folded over his chest.

"I'm sick of this shit. Talk to me."

My heart softens as I search his eyes. He throws his arms around me, catching me by surprise and I rub his back.

"You never wanna hang out with me anymore. I don't understand," he sniffles.

"We'll talk about it in the morning."

He stomps off, tugging at his hair and I hate myself for turning to alcohol. I can't fucking drown my feelings for him.

Now that he's growing up it's even worse. He's becoming so handsome and so fit. He asked me about having sex last week and it really through me for a loop.

I'm groggy as hell when I wake up. I groan and roll over smacking into Zayn.

"Shit," I rub at my forehead. "Didn't know you slept here last night."

"I got you some medicine," he presses some pills into the palm of my hand and I swallow them down gratefully before gulping down some water. "I was really mad at you but then I got worried you had too much to drink so I...I wanted to check on you."

"Thanks," I say quietly.

"Is it about a girl Harry?"

"No, it's nothing."

He frowns deeply, fingers tousling his quiff and I bite my lip to distract myself.

"Well something is hurting you. Come on," he elbows my side gently. "We tell each other everything."

"Zayn I can't," my voice breaks. "You wouldn't understand."

"Is it because I'm younger than you? I'm plenty mature."

"Stop," I clutch onto his shirt, fisting the thin cotton material. My head is throbbing and all I can focus on is his full lips sweeping as he speaks.

"I," his tongue pokes out, touching the corner of his bottom lip and I'm about to snap. "I don't know anymore. I feel helpless. It's stupid but I look up to you," his cheeks flush and he fiddles with his slender fingers.

"That's not stupid. I'm sorry. I'd never hurt you-"

"I know that Harry, don't be too hard on yourself. If you ever need to talk." His hand slips over mine and he gives an encouraging smile before leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Find someone else, literally anyone else to fantasize about. Not your damn adopted brother.

You're so pathetic. You'll never tell him how you feel, you'll grow distant, watch him marry a beautiful girl with big heart and he'll be fucking happy but you'll be miserable.

You just had to grow attached to him, didn't you? Those sweet little giggles and those big golden eyes.

He used to like when I blew air on his tummy and tickled his sides until his eyes watered. I carried him everywhere, taught him everything there was to know about the world around him. All I wanted to do was protect him.

Pillow forts and superhero capes. Empty packets of crisps and video games.

Playing soccer for hours in a field, just us laughing and cheering and panting on the grass, gazing up at the vast sky.

He's right. We do tell each other everything. Me about my sloppy first kiss and getting bullied in primary school.

Him about learning to cope with abandonment and one very charming lady.

He nearly starved at that place, woke up every night fussing and crying or wetting the bed.

That hurts me more than he'll ever imagine. He never knew his mother, never bonded with his dad, never had that crucial interaction when his mind was developing.

He'd suck his thumb until he fell asleep, cheeks stained with tears.

He cries a lot and I want to kiss away his hurt, tell him it's okay to be sensitive.

Zayn is at the stage now where people care about his masculinity, they care about him looks and his talents and I feel him slipping through my fingers.

Pretty soon he'll have a girlfriend, he'll be the star of the track team and he most definitely won't have time for me.

I wish things could go back to how they were, him depending on me to tie his shoelaces and put a band-aid on a cut.

The reality is he doesn't need me anymore.

Out of Reach (Zayn age 14)

"I need you Harry," his body is racked with sobs and he crumples in my arms.

"It's alright," I murmur. "I've got you Zee."

He sits down on the edge of my bed and wipes his tears.

"I don't know why I'm so upset," he hiccups and my hand is on the small of his back. "I don't want you to see me like this," he sniffles. "I'm such a loser."

"No you aren't Zayn."

"I miss you. You're away for so long and uni feels so far away."

"What's wrong?"

I stroke his cheek and his eyelids flutter closed.

"She cheated on me."

Never liked that bitch anyway.

"Zayn," I exhale. "You're so young. There will be plenty of other girls. You can do better. You deserved so much more."

"She wanted to have sex and I chickened out."

"You're only fourteen Zayn, do you know how risky that is?"

"I do! I tried to tell her that."

All I can do is hold him until the tears stop, hand cradling his head, fingers lost in his soft quiff.

He says it so quietly I nearly miss it.

"Please come home Harry."

"I'm always here for you. Call me if you ever need me Zee."

I let go of him and his cheek creases the pillow as he lays down, curling up like his always does when he needs a sense of direction.

"It's stupid," he laughs. "I thought I wanted you out of the house, I thought it would be nice not having you around to nag me but you were just looking out for me and I get it now. You told me not to fool around with Natalia in the first place."

"Do you ever listen?"

"Sometimes," he smirks. "I've been sleeping in your bed because it still smells faintly of you and mum says it'll get better but I miss you more every second."

"I'm here now," I smile. "But I miss you too, so much Zayn."

"Really?" He perks up, baby pink tongue pressed to his teeth. "You aren't having fun at all the parties?"

I shrug, laying down beside him. He laces his fingers with mine and I wish college wasn't so far out of reach.

Birthday Boy (Zayn age 16)

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Zaaayynn, happy birthday to you."

He smiles and blows out the candles, pressing his finger into the icing, denting the corner of the cake.

"Zayn," our mother reprimands.

I just laugh and send him a little wink. He licks it clean, sucking it off his finger and I have to excuse myself, completely mortified that my own brother made me hard.

"Knock knock," he jokes as he walks in. "Don't you want some cake?"

"Maybe later. I don't feel too well."

"Oh," he frowns. "On my birthday?"

"Sorry," I chuckle. "Is it a good one?"

"The best one yet," he cocks his head to the side, grinning, eyes glimmering.

"I got you something."

"You didn't have to."

"Nonsense," I wave away his comment. "Just a sec."

I rummage through my bedside table, finding the little box.

"Here," I hand it to him and he eagerly rips off the bow, popping off the lid.

"Harry," he exhales. "Why did you get two tickets? How did you even know?"

"I'm skipping school to take you."

"Now fucking way!"

He tackles me in a bone crushing hug repeating the words like a chant. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You do like The Weeknd right?"

"Shut up," he laughs, eyes glossy.

"I sure hope so because those are VIP."

"No," his hand flies over his mouth, muffling his tears. He glances down at the tickets once more just to be sure.

"I got us a hotel. We can stay up all night and get super drunk."

"You're the best brother I could have ever asked for, you know that right?"

"I'm aware," I grin cheekily.

"Come on," he tugs at my shirt-sleeve. "Help me eat this cake."

He's practically glowing, trace of a smile on his face as he digs his fork into a slice of chocolate.

A dab of it gets stuck on his lower lip and I slowly wipe it away with my thumb.

My body freezes, regret sinking in but he simply looks at me, gaze so intense my heart nearly gives out.

Did he feel that too?

Or am I chasing an impossible dream?

Urges (Zayn age 18)

"Is it bad," he looks down, hands folded in his lap. "I've been doing it for a few years now. It helps me relieve stress."

"Everyone does it, don't feel too guilty."

A sound gets caught in the back of his throat and I encourage him.

"It's okay Zayn. You'll feel so good. I promise."

His hand dips into his underwear, hand curling around his member. He begins pumping slowly, toes curling, small whimpers tumbling from his lips.

He closes his eyes, sweat breaking out across his forehead. I brush some hair out of his face.

"Harry," he pants. "Am I doing it right?"

"There's no wrong way, as long as it feels good."

"So good," he moans softly.

I watch him release and his body goes weak, crumpling beside me.

"How did your first time feel?"

"Scary," I admit. "Painful and awkward but it gets better."

"Sometimes I get these strong urges to touch someone and all I can do is use my own hands and it just isn't the same," he sighs.

"You shouldn't give yourself away just because you're horny or you're drunk or some other lousy excuse."

"Do you regret it?"

He rolls over to face me and I want to screw my mouth shut. This is not want I want to talk about with him.

"It didn't live up to my expectations...haven't found the right person. I should have been more patient."

He hums in response and my fingers card through his hair.

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."

"Harry," he whispers.

"Yes?"

His eyes squeeze shut and then he says it, voice quivering.

"I'm gay."

My heart pounds, pulse strumming in my neck.

"You hate me don't you," his voice is so raw, tears welling in his eyes.

"I could never hate you. Are you crazy Zayn?"

I go into the bathroom and dampen a wash rag.

"Here," I hand it to him. "You should fix that sticky situation."

"Haha," he rolls his eyes. "Oh God," he winces. "It's sensitive as hell."

"You aren't soft enough yet. Give it some time."

"I kissed Greg Henson," he laughs, slinging his arm over his forehead. " He used way too much tongue."

"Sloppy kisses are the worst."

"Tell me about it."

"I don't so much mind the wet part, I quite like wet kisses. I don't get the rush, it should be slow and passionate. Find someone who kisses you that way, someone who steals your breath and captures your heart and never settle, okay? You deserve all the happiness in the world."

His eyes search mine desperately and he touches my face.

"And you don't?"

"I don't know anymore."

To Be Alone (Zayn age 19)

"Zayn," I call out. "I'm home for holiday!"

I hear nothing but the static noise of the television blaring in the living room.

The house is empty so I set down my bags and hop in the shower, shutting it off when I hear voices drawing near. There's laughter.

Zayn and an unfamiliar voice, low and raspy. Too raspy, like he just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.

I hear a loud bang and scurry to get dressed, my curls still dripping wet.

They look at me panicked, eyes wide, Zayn shirtless, pressed up against the wall in the hallway, lips swollen, hair tousled.

"You're early," his voice shakes.

The guy has him pinned and Zayn's fingers are lost in his vibrant red dyed hair.

His jawline is sharp, blue eyes piercing. He looks too harsh for Zayn. Zayn is so needy, so sensitive.

He roams my body with his eyes, almost mocking me and backs away from Zayn.

"You're his brother?"

"Yes," I answer through gritted teeth. "Did you do that to his neck?"

"Just marked him up a little bit," he smirks. "You liked it, didn't you Zayn?"

"Y-yeah," he stammers, swallowing thickly.

"I need a smoke babe. Wanna join me?"

No he doesn't.

"No, I'm alright," he scratches the back of his neck and his boyfriend whispers something to him before leaving to replace him with a cigarette.

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating someone?"

"It's none of your business," he mumbles and turns away from me.

"Zayn," I deflate, voice trembling. "Where'd you get that bruise?"

A nasty one on the soft patch of skin just beneath his ear to the curve of his jaw.

"Harry stop," he warns.

"What happened to telling each other everything? You smell like a fucking ashtray. He's sleazy. Do you let him treat you-"

"Stop," he repeats again pathetically, completely giving up, face draining of color.

"Zayn," I whisper, closing the gap between us, thumb stroking over that tender area of skin. "I came early because I missed you and-"

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Don't apologize."

The door slams and he flinches so I distance myself from him.

"Let's go Zayn."

"Where?"

"Out," he hisses.

"No," Zayn replies quietly. "No, I want to spend time with my brother."

"That isn't what you wanted last night. You fucking begged for it."

"Please," he cries.

"You're going to fucking cry about it? You-"

I'm slamming into him, pressing his cheek to the floor as I growl "that's my little brother you're threatening, you fucking prick. Get out of my house. Get out," my nostrils flare and I fist up his shirt pulling him closer to me before pushing him back down, his skin scraping against the carpet. "You understand me?"

When I stand up he presses the back of his hand to his bloody nose, the impact of hitting the floor making blood dribble out.

Zayn lets out a small noise, hand cupping over his mouth, crying as the filth stumbles out of the house.

Anger flashes through me and my fist collides with the wall, punching straight through the thin sheet-rock.

"Harry," he chokes out.

Harreh.

All the pain and all the hurt he's endured makes my head spin. I want to punch the wall over and over again but his tone is so soft and his eyes are so kind I cease all movement.

His hands are on my shoulders, squeezing gently.

"I'm glad you're back. It's supposed to storm tonight and I'm still scared of thunder."

"You aren't scared of the thunder. You're scared of being alone."

Because I Love You (Zayn age 20)

"Rain can be comforting," my fingers brush through his hair.

"You're only staying the weekend?"

"I've been busy with work, I'm sorry Zee."

He pouts and I kiss the top of his cheek.

"Harry," he whispers. "Can you-"

My heart stills as I feel his chest pressed against me. I hope my arms are safe and solid and secure; strong and comforting.

"I hope I'm still everything you need me to be."

"You are," he blinks back tears. "Everything and more."

I'm cupping his face in my hands, heart picking up speed as I kiss him and our legs get tangled.

His mouth parts for me, granting my tongue entrance. They tentatively touch and my hands slowly explore his skin.

He tastes sweet, mouth wet and indescribably good.

I've wanted this for so long.

His hands knot my hair and I move to scatter kisses on his jaw and the crook of his neck.

He moans softly, something so beautiful I grow wet at just the sound.

Harry.

Every part of him is beautiful. I trace the outline of his tattoos with my finger and commit each one to memory, etch new ones with my mouth or the flick of my tongue.

Lapping wetly until he shivers, tugging at my curls.

I love you. You're so beautiful. Don't be scared. I won't leave you. Never.

Fresh invisible ink.

I nudge his thighs apart with my knee and he gasps, his hard member grazing against my bare skin. I can feel him soaking through his boxers so I'm quick to tug them down.

At first all I can do is admire him and trace little circles along his inner thighs. My thumbs sweep across his cheeks and I kiss him again. He hums this time, the vibration hitting the back of my throat.

I roll my hips, catching his bottom lip with my teeth before pulling away.

"Fuck, I missed you H."

"How much?"

"So much," he exhales.

His hips are rising off the bed as I suddenly stroke him, palm coated with his warm pre-cum.

"Think about you sometimes," he sighs contently. "All the time."

My thumb sweeps over the head of his cock as thunder roars to life beyond the walls.

The mattress shifts under our weight and I straddle him, knees bracketing his hips.

"Feels like thunder."

"What's that?"

"My heart," he replies breathlessly. "It's pounding even louder, knocking around in my ribcage. It...ohhh," he moans as I lick a strip, collecting a dribble of his cum.

We kiss again rather lazily. Our skin is sticky and he mewls softly as my mouth catches around his hardened nipple. I catch the other one between my teeth, tugging until he's entirely coated in sweat, gripping at my hair once more.

He twitches against me and I bite back a smile.

I'm making him feel good. Me.

There's another pearl dripping from his member and instead of licking it up, I guide him into my mouth.

His body shudders but I'm slow and smooth so he relaxes quickly. The muscles in his stomach are tight and his jaw clenches as his hips thrust upward. He hits the back of my throat and my mouth flutters around him.

I stop, a string of saliva connecting him and I. Then I lick his sack and his nails dig into my back and he hisses under his breath.

He's shaking the bed and then coming undone, unraveling before me as he messily shoots his load into my mouth.

"Do you trust me babe?"

"With my life."

I fumble for the lube in my nightstand and I press my finger to him.

"Relax for me babe. I'd never hurt you."

I slick my finger up before easing into him and he whimpers, eyes closing.

"Breathe. Nice and slow," I press a quick kiss to his bare shoulder.

I take him in my mouth again, very gentle as I suck this time. His body goes completely rigid as I add a second digit so I pull off with an obscene pop and kiss a line down his stomach.

"Want to make you feel good. I always take care of you, don't I baby?"

"Y-yes," he stutters.

I tongue his balls again as my fingers inch deeper inside of his tightness. My hand strains, fingers crooking ever so slightly. The sensitive skin stretched across his perineum earns a stroke from my thumb and his jaw goes slack.

I'm knuckle deep inside of him but pause to let him adjust.

My fingers hook slightly, grazing his prostate and he's stammering out a strand of curse words.

I can feel him pulsing. I'm throbbing myself and his thighs are shaking.

"Please," he cries out. "Want you inside of me so bad."

I'm coating myself with lube, apologizing about forgetting condoms but he tells me he doesn't care.

He's been aching for this moment as much as me, craving my touch all this time and he's coming apart at the seams.

Zayn is so delicate. He's on his stomach now, still pressed beneath me. I ease into him nice and slow, kissing his neck and shoulders, finger trailing down his spine.

"I chose you," I whisper against his neck. "Because I love you."


End file.
